


A Pirate's Life

by Magz (sparklepocalypse)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALL OF THE CRACK, Crack, M/M, also pirates, the crackiest of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepocalypse/pseuds/Magz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of seventh year.  There are pirate costumes. Written pre-book 6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pirate's Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is [](http://xmirax.livejournal.com/profile)[xmirax](http://xmirax.livejournal.com/)'s Christmas!Fic. Thanks to [](http://kallysten.livejournal.com/profile)[kallysten](http://kallysten.livejournal.com/) for the beta job.

Because it was the end of the term and NEWTS had just been sat by all the seventh-years, nobody thought it out of the ordinary when the head boy, dressed as a pirate, jumped atop the Slytherin table at dinner and, with his cutlass raised high and one foot planted firmly in Gregory Goyle's pudding, proclaimed that there would be a masque held that very evening. Gregory looked down at his rather demolished dessert with a mournful expression as Draco proceeded to back-flip off the table and bow.

"Showoff," Ron muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his food.

"The theme for tonight's masque is 'The Seven Seas'," Draco announced. "Please dress accordingly. All those of you whose costumes are deemed inappropriate by any of the four Heads of House, will be forced to attend as serving wenches."

The students snickered. Professor Snape looked pleased at the idea of hexing students who annoyed him with their clothing.

"And now, I take my leave," he said. He swept his hat off his head and bowed, then sauntered out amidst a smattering of applause and tittering female students.

Hermione turned to Ron. "We should match," she said. "I was thinking I'd go as Ruth, from _The Pirates of Penzance_ , and you could be Frederick. Or I could be Elizabeth from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ , and you could be Will. Harry, what are you going to be?"

Ron grimaced. "I refuse to go to a masque dressed as Orlando Bloom," he said. "That's not a pirate, that's... I don't even know what that is."

"I thought I'd go as a cabin boy," Harry replied. Then he picked up his things. "I need to go back to my room. I'll see you later."

Hermione frowned. "I thought I could get him to dress as Captain Jack Sparrow," she said. "A cabin boy? Really, that doesn't take much imagination at all, does it?"

***

But there was no cabin boy present when Hermione and Ron, dressed respectively as Elizabeth Swann and a Muggle, crossed the threshold into the Great Hall at eight that evening. They looked around for any sign that Harry was in attendance, but gave up after a few minutes, figuring he'd decided to stay up in Gryffindor tower.

***

There was a pirate standing by the punchbowl, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. He wore a red scarf over his hair and a black mask to disguise his eyes. Another scarf fixed the scabbard of a long-sword, and his sheathed wand, to his hip. Black trousers were mostly covered by black leather boots that ended at mid-thigh. His white shirt was partially unlaced, and the sleeves billowed when he moved. His eyes were fixed directly on the large, white feather stuck in another attendant's hat, as the owner of the hat moved about on the other side of the room. He wished he had a hat as splendid as the one he was currently admiring. He --

"Harry?!"

\-- lost track of the swaying feather. Damn. "Hello, Hermione," said the pirate by the punchbowl. "How are you enjoying your evening?"

"It's a lovely ball," Hermione said. "I thought you were coming as a cabin boy."

"I changed my mind," replied Harry. He glanced around, hoping to find the mesmerizing feather again, to no avail. "I don't suppose you'd like to dance?"

"Actually, I came to ask if you'd seen Ron. I lost him when he was running from Professor Snape." Hermione looked a little worried.

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Harry said. "Why was he running?"

Hermione crossed her arms and blew a stray curl out of her eyes. "Remember how we were discussing costumes this morning, and Ron said he wouldn't go as Will Turner?"

"I thought he said he wouldn't come as Orlando Bloom," Harry commented.

"When he found out I had discovered a charm to give him the little beard and the long hair, he decided not to come in costume at all. He walked in wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, and five minutes later Professor Snape cornered him near the fireplace. He ran, and dragged me with him, but we got separated by a conga line and I haven't seen him since."

Harry moved away from the punch bowl. "Maybe he's hiding in the restroom. I'll have a look."

Hermione touched his arm and smiled gratefully. "I do hope he hasn't gotten himself in trouble," she said.

"Don't worry," Harry replied. "I'll be right back, alright? If I don't find him, I'll -- hey!" he snapped as Blaise Zabini, magically charmed cleavage heaving, ran screaming out of the hall with the hem of his serving wench costume hiked up to his knees, colliding with Harry on his way out. To his left, Harry heard Snape mutter _clothingo wenchanem_ , and then Neville squawked loudly. "This is too much," he said.

"You don't think..." Hermione's eyes widened as she considered Ron's possible appearance.

"Have you got a camera?" Harry asked.

Hermione giggled.

***

Because it really was a nifty weapon, Harry walked down the corridor twirling his sword. He hadn't seen Ron in the nearest restroom, and was on his way back to the Great Hall to tell Hermione. His sword sang through the air as he hopped up onto a low stone bench and fenced an invisible enemy, swinging the blade energetically.

The shuffling of feet and an urgent whisper stilled Harry.

" _Finite incantatum_. Oh, come on. Please work. _Fin-i-te-in-can-ta-tum_. _Finite_! _Incantatum_! Bloody hell, this is awful. _Finite incantat_ -argh!"

Ron spun around, his skirt swirling around his legs, as Harry touched his shoulder. His wand was pointed between two very new, very perky body parts. "Help?" Ron asked.

"Can't," Harry said. "The charm wears off at midnight. There's nothing I can do."

"Can I borrow your invisibility cloak, then?" Ron pleaded. "I can't go back in there like this."

"Why not?" Harry asked, as if it were perfectly okay for his male best friend to be wearing breasts.

"Why not?" Ron repeated. "Why not? It's bloody humiliating, this is. I bet nobody else has even gotten charmed. Ferret Boy probably put Snape up to it just to get to me," he grumbled.

"Blaise Zabini and Neville were both charmed when I left the Great Hall," Harry replied. "And I think Neville stayed where he was."

Ron scowled. "I don't want to."

"It's fine, Ron. Look, I'll walk in and profess my undying love for Bulstrode if you want me to take people's attention off you."

"How sweet. The Boy Who Lived has a crush on Millie."

Harry bristled and turned around. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Rumor has it that the Weasel's new look is actually an improvement," Draco said, and fiddled with the feather in his hat. "I decided to find out for myself."

"Shut up, git!" Ron groused from behind Harry.

"How original, Weasley. I'm utterly astounded at your tits. I mean, wit." Draco leaned against a nearby wall and absently stroked the hilt of his sword.

"That's enough, Malfoy," Harry said.

"Oh, I don't think so," Draco replied. "I do wonder, is it a glamour, or are they real?"

Harry whipped forward, the tip of his sword resting millimeters from Draco's throat. "I said that's enough." He was so focused on Draco's suddenly nervous breathing and wide eyes that he didn't notice when the blond slipped his own sword from its scabbard until the flat of the blade collided with the edge of his, knocking it away.

A few minutes later, they were nearly at an impasse. Neither had seemed to be able to gain much of an advantage over the other. The clanging of their blades had drawn a small crowd of onlookers, and Ron hid among the back of them, snickering in amusement when he realized that his womanly virtue was being fought over. He shook his head and went off to find Hermione.

Ron's departure threw Harry's concentration just long enough that Draco was able to trip him up and get him pinned against a wall, their blades crossed between them. Their faces were flushed, their breathing ragged. One of Draco's thighs was pressed between Harry's. Harry squirmed to get away, and then gasped when something firm and hot brushed against his hip. His eyes flew to Draco's and he swallowed convulsively.

"Gentlemen, is there a problem?"

As one, Harry and Draco turned their heads toward the voice, and cringed. Professor Dumbledore stood serenely before them. "Not at all, Headmaster," Draco said, still pressing his blade against Harry's. Harry wondered how he could manage to sound so unflustered. "I was showing Potter, here, a few tricks that my uncle Artemis taught me. He was a famous swordsman, you know." He ignored Harry when he was on the receiving end of an odd look.

"Harry?" Dumbledore pressed. "Is what Mr. Malfoy says true?"

Harry nodded quickly. "Yeah," he said, and then cleared his throat. He saw Draco return the odd look that he'd given him. "He told me he knew how to fence, and I didn't believe him so he offered to show me." He hoped that his expression looked as innocent as he was trying to sound.

The Headmaster nodded. "Good. I'm glad to see the two of you finally getting along."

Draco frowned and stepped quickly away from Harry.

Harry stood up straighter and sheathed his sword, then drummed his fingers on the top edge of his right boot.

"Enjoy your evening, gentlemen," Dumbledore said, and turned to rejoin the ball.

Harry shuffled his feet. Draco examined his nails.

"Potter," Draco said after a moment.

Harry looked over at the blond, silently.

"Nice boots." Then he sauntered away, down the corridor, the feather in his hat fluttering.


End file.
